


The Worst Boyfriend

by metus_noctis (orphan_account)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad Decisions, Boyfriends, Boys Kissing, Cheating, Closeted Character, Consensual Underage Sex, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Original Character-centric, Original Fiction, Original Slash, POV Original Character, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24311059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/metus_noctis
Summary: Hi.My name is Thomas Wilde, and this is the story of how I am the worst boyfriend in the entire world.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 3





	The Worst Boyfriend

“Tommy, come on, we're gonna be late!”

Hi.

My name is Thomas Wilde, and this is the story of how I am _the worst boyfriend in the entire world._

“ _Fine_ , fine! I'm coming!”

“What's taking you so long, man?”

Ah. That's Charlie. My incredible, sweet, loving boyfriend. The incredible, sweet, loving boyfriend that I _cheated_ on. The one I've been cheating on for over a month now.

 _That_ Charlie.

We're currently about to head out for our first date! Oh, it's truly going to be awesome. One of the best moments of my entire life, if I'm going to be honest. There's going to be a movie, and pizza by the river, and fairy lights, and then he's going to kiss me on the London eye--- you know, maybe I shouldn't _actually_ spoil it. Read on and see for yourself.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I can't decide on what to wear!”

I can hear footsteps climbing up the stairs, familiar ones, and I know Charlie is coming to my aid. Whether it is to comfort me, or help me out just so we don't miss the start of "the coolest film of the century" ( _his words, not mine_ ), I do not know. Or knew, I know now, obviously ( _he really just wanted to help out, the sweetheart_ ). I notice how he hesitates on the other side of the door, how he takes a deep breath before cracking the handle open and peaking inside. Well, again, I notice _now_. Back then, I'm pretty sure the only thing I could focus on was the fact that my closet seemed to be messier than the room itself, which is saying something. I also seem to focus on the fact that I'm sitting there shirtless, while my boyfriend -- _sorry_ , my _not-yet-boyfriend_ and best friend -- is walking into that same aforementioned room. _Oops_.

“I'm sure you--”, there's a pause, and from the mirror on my left I spot a dust of pink on Charlie's cheeks upon entering the room. I trail the trip of his eyes on the back of my head to my shoulders, inwards to my tense shoulder blades, and further down, cascading down the slope of my spine and landing, for a second or two, on my jean-clad hips. He has to blink in order to not stare, and it makes a thread in me spark to life. “I-I'm sure you've got _tons_ of clothes to wear.”

He takes careful steps towards me, until he reaches that damned closet, and within mere seconds, he's pulled out what later on becomes my favourite outfit to wear. Cheesy, I know, pretentious even, coming from a guy who literally starts the story of his fucked up relationship with " _I cheated on the guy_ ". But, nevertheless, it is the truth. And, you know what, this is my story, so suck it up!

..

Sorry about that. Got carried away. So, where was I?

Oh, right! He picks a simple red and black plaid button-up, a black leather jacket and and a pair of black converse, and hands them to me. He sits there and observes as I put them on, and when I look at myself in the mirror... _wow_. Typically I'm not one to brag but I looked fucking awesome. Thanks Charles.

“See?”, he says, and his voice is sweet as he walks up to me and places his hands on my shoulders. His brown, curly locks tickle my temple as he leans in closer to my ear, and his bright greens stare back at me through the mirror. “ _You look beautiful._ ”

It takes a few moments for me to realise the added " _no matter what you wear_ ", but when I do, let me tell you, I fall straight for him ( _ironic, isn't it?_ ).

The evening continues smoothly. We walk to the cinema and he pays for our snacks, like the gentleman that he is, and we watch his beloved movie ( _the first Avengers one, what a nerd_ ), and he playfully smacks me when I repeatedly comment that DC is better than Marvel by all means ( _because it is, I mean come on_ ), and maybe I like that he does that, because it also makes him smile and avert his attention from the ( _rather_ _cool_ ) film ( _that I grew to love, even though DC is still much better_ ) to me, and that's super satisfying for some reason.

He holds my hand as we exit the venue, and I blush, and obviously he does too, and then we stroll down the Thames and we share a pizza and there's fairy lights littering the buildings around us as the sun fully sets, and it truly is beautiful. It's _perfect_ , in fact. It's so perfect that it makes my gut churn when I think about how I've thrown it all away, and keep doing so. And for what? Well, let's just say, I'm not ready to tell yet.

Yes, alright, I know this story was literally created for that reason only, but let me be, okay?! This is my shame and I share it whenever I please!

Anyway, back to the present, or the past I suppose, we ride the London Eye and laugh our way to the top. And once we reach that adrenaline heightening point, Charlie turns to me and plants a short, sweet kiss to my lips. And that, is the moment it all went wrong.

See, I had pretty much had a crush on Charles ever since primary school. He felt the same too, obviously. We're 16 now. Well we _were_. You might be wondering, _why oh why_ was us kissing so bad? Well, if you did wonder about that, then you're officially an _idiot_. What with all the foreshadowing I've been doing for the last few minutes you'd think y'all would've realised where this was going.

 _Sigh_. That moment, was life changing for me. See, being a boy in the 21st century is pretty easy. However, being a _gay_ boy in the 21st century, let alone being a _virgin_ gay boy, is not quite that simple. I've had people ask me how many girls I have kissed and what base I've managed to reach, and I can't seem to figure out which answer is going to cost me less differentiation, disgust and/or bullying; replying: _I'm the virginest virgin to ever virgin, or the gayest gay to ever gay._ Either way, I'd probably end up with a couple new horrible nicknames and possibly one or two fractured bones to my collection. So what do I do? I lie. To _everyone_. I lie to my mom, who, however supportive, really quite pushes me to finding myself " _a nice girl, and bring her over so we can meet her, and she could help cook with me and we can bond over your annoying habits, like when you sometimes pick your nose on the dinner table and it's really quite disgusting--_ " AND OKAY MOM WE GET IT. I lie to my dad, who's pretty much of an asshole already, let alone if and when I decide to, quote unquote, _come out_. Most importantly, I lie to my friends, who sometimes do tend to reach borderline _dickhead_ when talking about this kind of stuff, even though I'm sure they don't mean half the shit they say, so yeah, I think it's pretty clear why I never even thought about coming out to them either. I lie to pretty much everyone; random dudes at school who think that just because I lent them a pen once we're best buddies now and desperately try to make small talk by talking about boobs, _and how round the perfect they're are, am I right?_ No! No, you're not right! I lie to my cousins and I lie to my auntie and uncle who always seem to stir the conversation right back to sex, as if it's the most important part of life! Which, it's _not_! Yeah, sure sex is pretty cool but have you ever actually sat down with your husband to have a nice conversation? Maybe you'd learn a thing or two about each other!

... _Anyway_. Bottom line is, I lie. I lie to my mom's two best friends, who are always over somehow, like, don't they have jobs and/or families to maintain? And I lie to that lady down the street that always seems to need help moving furniture around and also never seems to change out of her neon pink nightie and overly heavy makeup, and that weird creepy neighbour that has his blinds shut all year round, and the hot English teacher on the apartment next to ours that I'm pretty sure checks me out any time I pass by, but it's too bad cause I'm _straight_ , right? _I'm as straight as a circle!_

And, lastly, I end up lying to my best friend. Yup, you heard that right. I lied to _Charlie_. Before you ask, no, this not about the cheating, that comes in later. And also, _fuck you_ , stop shaming me while fastforwarding in my story.

I lied to Charles about my sexuality a long time ago. Back in primary school, actually, when we were having our first sleep over at his house and we started talking about ' _girls_ '. It was really rather awkward, what with two gay kids trying to sound as straight as humanly possible, or as straight as two gay kids can be, which isn't a lot. It wasn't very convincing. You see, the issue was that Charlie was brave enough to admit he'd been curious in the past. He was brave enough, to admit, years later, that he'd thought about boys and liked it. And, finally, he was brave enough, to, at this very moment, kiss his own best friend, who was supposedly _the straightest person on earth._

Do you see now why this was so scary for me? Him kissing me meant he felt stuff for me that he was ready to reveal while I couldn't even face them on my own. Him kissing me, meant that there was someone out there who thought it was okay to be who you are, and _fuck society_ , _fuck stereotypes_ , and _fuck anyone who thinks otherwise_. Him kissing me, meant there was someone who saw me for who I was and not who I pretended to be.

It meant that I had been discovered.

All those years, lying and lying and lying to everyone I ever cared about and to those that I didn't, all for nothing. All to finally be faced with a situation I had been dreading my whole life and had led me to resort to lying and hiding in the first place.

What was I supposed to do? I was suddenly given a choice, _the forbidden fruit_ ; was I to take a bite and finally accept myself for who I always was, or ignore it, hell, even throw it away, _destroy it_ , so that I can return to a safe way of living, that required using a mask to hide my true self from the world just so it doesn't have a reason to hate me?

So I'm sure you all know what I did next.

_I kissed him too._

And seriously, if you thought I did anything different than that then _what is wrong with you, really?_ Of course I'd kiss him! It's not like I actually had a choice between feeling really good for a moment, and then having to face the _consequences_ for it! Have you ever tried being a _teenager_?!

So yeah. After he's ( _very impulsively_ ) smooched me, I smooch him right back. He's caught his tongue trying to rapidly explain that it was an accident and that he's really sorry when it happens. And after it does? _God_ , have I ever seen a person look this happy before in my life. His smile right after our first kiss will forever be the most genuine thing I'd ever seen. It spoke to me much more than words ever could, and it showed me everything right down to its core; Charlie's heart, and all those bottled up emotions he tried to hide in the span of the 6 whole years we've known each other. It showed me that this boy waited for _me_ , waited to see if anything would burst out, if I'd finally make a move, if I'd finally admit things about myself that I never even knew where there in the first place. It showed me a boy who loved me thoroughly, and who had come to terms with who he was long ago, but still waited for me to do the same before taking action. Suffice to say I never did, but that kiss, _my_ _first ever kiss_ , made me realise I did have a choice. I had the choice to be happy by being me, or forever staying hidden and fake just because I feared rejection, differentiation and hate. Charlie Drew Thompson helped me make the right choice. A choice that would forever change my life.

Not necessarily for the better.

I think it's understandable that after that perfect night, we ended up dating. And we were so happy with each other, _God_ , so happy we've been dating for over a year now! Yay!

By this point you're probably very curious as to when the actual cheating part comes in, and to that, I have to say, _stop rushing, will you?_ I'll get to that, but in order for that to happen, I'm going to need to explain everything that led up to that moment first, so stay tuned, alright?

Time to get real now, folks. Charlie is a _brilliant_ man. He's sweet, and funny, and accepting, and he loves me dearly. And you know what? I do too! You know why? Because he's _perfect_! He's the perfect boyfriend, and the perfect best friend, and the perfect classmate, and it's like everything good in the world was all put together to create _Charlie Drew Thompson_. But you see, that was his greatest fault, too. He was too damn trusting. He still is. So trusting, that whenever there's suspicious marks on my neck, or I limp forward a lot more than usual, or my throat is a little bit hoarse the next day, he just smiles at me and continues on being perfect and doing all the perfect things that he does.

So, I'm sure you're sitting there like, " _so if he's so perfect, and you love him, why'd you cheat on him?!_ "

Well... we'll get there.

Of all the things Charlie was, he was also a massive nerd. And, as often ( _sometimes falsely_ ) associated, a massive _virgin_. But that's cool, you know! _So was I_! That's perfectly fine! Perfectly fine, if you don't consider the fact that Charlie, good, loving, perfect Charlie, was waiting to lose that virginity with his seemingly perfect boyfriend, _me_. And see, this is where it gets complicated. Because that would have happened, hadn't I fucked up so much sometime over a month ago.

You know what the date was, a little over a month ago?

It was _October 12th._

You know what also happened on October 12th?

_Charles and I kissed for the first time._

That's right, everybody, I cheated on my perfect boyfriend on our one year anniversary. _How cliché_!

Okay, before you start calling me a _dick_ , or an _ass_ , or _both_ , it's not like I planned it! What, you think I woke up October 12th thinking, _hmm whatever shall I do today? Oh, I know! I'll cheat on my incredible boyfriend that I love!_ Of course I bloody didn't plan it. It just happened!

Look, in my defense, it wasn't exactly my fault either. Well, not _completely_ , at least. However happy we might have been, however many gifts we gave each other, however many dates we went on, however much time we happily spent together, life is not all like that. There were bad moments too. There were moments where I thought I truly was a horrible person for the things I thought. There were times where our fighting seemed a bit too real, a bit too serious to be shrugged off as ' _having a domestic_ '. There were days where I thought we were truly done for.

One of those days, was October 12th. We had gone out for the evening, and were having such a magnificent time, just like the year before. We'd planned this so perfectly; we'd recreate our very first date -- _watch the Avengers, have pizza by the Thames and kiss on the London Eye and all_ \-- and once the night was coming to an end, we'd go back to my place ( _my parents were out on a business trip, and we had the house all to ourselves_ ), where we'd finally unravel to each other for the first time ever, and fully connect as a couple.

Meaning, we were going to have _sex_.

But, of course, that never happened.

A few jealous remarks, a self-deprecating comment and a couple fake smiles later, there we were again, fighting to our hearts' contents. It started off kind of like bickering at first, but grew more heated as time passed, unlike any argument we've had before. It was quite horrifying, seeing Charles act like this. What was worse, was that our shouting got us banned from our favourite pizza place. So now, thrown out and still fighting with renowned vigour, I found myself blinded by rage, fury and hatred that I stormed off. I heard Charlie call after me, and a few calls down his tone seemed to shift from angry, to slightly calmer, and finally, concerned. And what did I do? I _ran_. And _of course_ I did! I felt like _shit_ and the only thing that sounded _a bit less shit_ than turning back to Charles, going back home, or phoning up mom and dad to end their trip short and pick me up, was drinking my problems away, just like any 17 year old would have done. Well, almost _18_ at this point. We'd celebrated the finish of my 16 and start of my 17th years together the year before, on the 22nd of November. It was just a bit over a month since our getting together, but it was _quite_ perfect; Charles had surprised me with a cake he had attempted to bake himself ( _it was a bit... less than professional, let's just say, but it's the thought that matters, right_?), and had gotten me a pretty black ribbon necklace as a gift. I remember wearing it with his aforementioned handpicked outfit, just like I had on that day. My 17th birthday was also the first time we ever attempted something sexual. Don't let your mind run wild though, it was just your average handjob. As said before, we'd planned on saving the real stuff for a special occasion. Maybe we _shouldn't_ have. Maybe us doing so was a sign from the universe that something was going to come between us and our perfect future together. Whatever it was, it didn't do anything to stop me from fucking up the one good thing I had going on for me.

I keep running. I run so fast my knees buckle and I almost lose my balance but I don't stop. I try to think up and visualise all these roads unraveling ahead of me, just like I'd seen _Sherlock Holmes_ do on TV one time, when Charles had forced me to watch the show with him because " _oh my god it's so good_ ". In reality, all he wanted was to stare at Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman's gorgeous faces for an hour and a half each episode.

I manage to locate a bar on the far end of my right. I've never been to that part of town before, at least not at night I haven't. The street almost seems like it's closing in on itself, and the marble on the ground seems just a tad hoarser, and the colour of the sky might as well have gotten a shade darker for all I knew. At that moment, all that mattered was that I was standing mere feet away from a place in which I could be myself for the first time ever, without fearing that people would change their views on me or treat me any differently. This was a place where, the moment I would walk in, I'd become just another stranger to spot in the crowd, just another customer to serve on the bar, just another body to grind on the dancefloor. And that type of freedom? That was something I'd never felt before. It was something that I wasn't going to give up now that I had found it.

Luckily for me, the place didn't seem to have a guard on the outside. That was good, considering I hadn't exactly turned 18 yet, and would do so in over a month, which is not the shortest of lengths. Without a second thought, I walk in, to the immediate blasting of trashy electronic music and drunken bodies colliding with each other, the walls, and every single piece of furniture they could possibly touch. Already, this seemed like the best decision I had made in a while. The place gave off a type of aura that made me feel oddly safe, like repressing myself was no longer necessary, that giving in to my deepest desires was not wrong or bad. It made me forget about the perfect Charlie that was probably looking for me right at that moment.

I squeezed my way through some very inappropriate dancing and some overly sweaty body parts, but finally reached my destination. Sitting on a bar for the first time made me realise two things:  
1\. _These stools are too bloody high_  
2\. _I don't have any money to pay for my drinks._

Upon remembering so, I thought that the best way to get out of this situation without ending up in jail, would be to literally get _the fuck right out of there_. But the barman was already looking at me expectedly, and getting up to leave was already being rendered off as too embarrassing an option inside my head, so what I thought best was to kind of... order myself a drink. Even though I knew there was no way to pay for it.

At this moment, I was creating a list of things to do on those last moments of freedom before I unsurprisingly got thrown into jail. The list was so long that I immediately scrap that idea off, and start a new list, of ways to get out of jail. And then another one, of ways to not get into jail in the first place. I could run? Hide? Try to blend in with the crowd and sneak out the back? I could try apologising? Like _really_ _hard_?

My pointless, anxious thinking had managed to distract me so effectively that I didn't even notice another person taking the seat right next to mine.

“ _Hello?_ ”, the, _wow_ , the fairly _attractive at first glance_ man said, and if I wasn't paying attention before then I was definitely listening now. Dark brown hair, styled nicely into a messy quiff, sideburns, a bit of a stubble, and bright blue-greens. My hormones were _yodelling_.

“ _Huh?_ ”

“Oh, _he speaks_! What a surprise”, he's making a joke about me being spaced out, I get it. Very clever way to start a conversation. Ten points to whatever house he belongs in. “You looked fairly out of it just then. Thought I'd say hello to my drinking neighbour but you only just... _sat there_.”

“Yeah, _sorry_ , hi. Was just thinking about stuff”, was all I replied, because however hot, the man I was currently speaking to was still pretty much a stranger. I suspect that in a minute or two, my drink will be here, and mentally sigh as I'll probably come off as some sort of criminal to this new guy once the police arrives to take me away. And all for a drink.

“That's alright. The name's Tyler, by the way. So nice to meet you”

The man, _Tyler_ , extends his hand for a shake, just in time with the barman who places my drink on the counter, right between his hand and my forearm. Just as I begin to think that my inevitable doom is approaching, I see Tyler look up to the guy, as he says: “Whatever he's having. And it's on me.”

It takes a few seconds for it to down on me that this extremely handsome stranger just offered to pay for my drink. When it _does_ , I'm positively sure that I look like my eyes are about to pop out of their sockets.

“ _Did you just_ \-- I- You don't even know my _name_!”

“Well, _what is it_ , then?”, he smirks, and continues with “A pretty face is one thing, but a name to go with it? _Even better_.”

 _Smooth_. Okay, we all have to give it to him. That was smooth. So, obviously, wat I say is:

“It's Thomas. Thanks again for paying for my drink”

He only smiles as he takes a sip of his own cocktail. When did that arrive? And when had he scooted over?

“So what do you do, Thomas?”

I considered the question at first. Would saying I'm still in school make the guy forget about the free drinks and the talk about pretty faces and call the cops on me? Would it be better if I lied?

That last question, and the inevitable positive answer to it, was two things I constantly dealt with in my life, as you've probably seen. So, I lie.

“I'm-- I'm a, I'm in _art school_ ”

Nice save. College means legal.

He arches an eyebrow. I can't tell if he's about to call bullshit or ask for details.

“ _Ah_ , you're an artist then. Had you for one since the moment I saw you. You're quite an example of the saying " _the producer becomes the produce_ ".”

Okay, _what the fuck_. Did this guy just call me a piece of art?

_Smooth motherfucker._

It's at this moment I seem to remember that this isn't okay. I've got a boyfriend, _goddamit_ , yet here I am downing cocktail after cocktail, wait when did they get so many? And this guy, he keeps flirting with me, and he's starting to get a bit blurry on the edges there but he looks like the most attractive human I've ever laid eyes upon. I blink, a couple times, and my vision clears just a little only to see that he's even closer now, and he's got his left hand on my thigh, drawing circles lazily on the flesh that peaks through the rips there. The touch feels like fire dancing on my skin, and there's goosebumps on my arms, and maybe I shiver as his hand travels a bit further up, because I hear him chuckle right next to my ear.

I think it's safe to say that I don't know what the fuck is happening, but I want it. I also think that I'm extremely fucking _drunk_. Not drunk enough to lose all consciousness, but drunk enough not to think about my worried, wonderful boyfriend with whom I just had a fight with that needs to be resolved, or about the fact that Tyler's hand has settled between my inner thigh and my crotch and it just feels _so good_ \--

A moment later, I'm walking. I've got no idea where to, but that doesn't stop me. Somehow my feet move on their own. I blink, and suddenly, I'm in the bathroom. Oh, and look! Tyler's here. He's, He's... He's really close to me, and he's taller than before. My feet don't touch the ground, and my ass is on a solid surface, I'm guessing it's the sink. He steps even further ahead, and now he's situated right between my thighs and _fuck_ , that's hot. _Hot_... Hot, _Hot_! _Right_! On my lips, something touching them, and it's _hot_ , and _wet_. _Right_ , we're kissing. I remember now. He asked if I was okay with that. Of course-- _of course_ I'm okay with it! Why wouldn't I be?

What seems like seconds pass, and there's a solid hardness grinding on me, and _God_ , _oh_ , that's _good_ , that's _really good_ , and... _oh_! Something over my mouth again, not lips this time, no. A hand, _his_ hand, and a whisper near my ear that tells me how pretty I sound when I make those noises, but I'd probably be best if I kept them down. Have I been making much noise?

More kisses, on the lips, the jaw, the neck, a hand ruffling my hair, and blond locks pulled back so that my neck is more exposed, and more kisses, and it's so hot, _too hot_ , like fire in my veins instead of blood, and a loud moan snaps me out of my haze. Was that mine? Judging by the look Tyler gives me, then it probably was. If anything, he goes even harder after that. He's halfway removing my trousers when I finally manage to stop him.

“Wait, hold on, _s-stop_ ”, I slur, as I weakly grab his hand. I don't need to, he willingly stops when I say so, and that's nice to see, but my mind is still screaming at me to get the fuck out because _goddammit_ , “I have a boyfriend, _oh my god_ , what am I _doing_ ”

He seems startled at that, so much that his hands completely leave me, and I don't like that, I don't. There was fire where his hands went and now there's ice, and, as bad as I'd feel for it, I'd choose wrong fire over right ice anytime.

I remember him saying that it's my choice. That I just looked like I needed this, like I needed the distraction. That a pretty boy like me deserves this, and _fuck_ was that music to my ears. I must have told him the truth at some point over the last couple of minutes. That I'm a student, and that I'm very much a virgin, because everything he said seemed so appropriate, so hot for me to keep going but not hard enough to scare me off, and fuck if I was going to stop now. He was _right_ , I needed this. I needed this so bad that I'd try to mimic this sort of pleasure by myself, moments after Charles and I would fight about waiting for the right time before we did anything. He was right, _I deserved this_ , and he was there for me when I needed it most, so it's happening. Right here, right now.

Waves of hot pleasure washed over me. Bare skin to bare skin, veiny, sure hands travelling down my body, words of praise in my ear. I was _in_ _ecstasy_. At some point, I felt him play with my ribbon necklace. The ribbon necklace Charlie had given me on my birthday. And did I care? Well, _what do you think_? He pulled it, and it choked me more than it usually did and I _liked_ that. He seemed to like that a lot, too. It didn't take long for the real thing. He kept distracting me from the pain of the penetration, until there was just pleasure, and all I could find myself doing was breathe hard and moan as this stranger showed me all the pleasures of the world in the bathroom of some bar. I'm pretty sure I was convinced I was in _Heaven_ at one point or another. The wetness and warmth that I felt were bordering on too much, as Tyler's thrusts became vigorous and sloppy, and not too long after, I let go.

I know what I did was wrong. But this story is for me to be honest for the first time in my life after lying and deceiving so many people. So, I'm being honest when I say that that night, was the most liberating moment of my entire life. It was a freedom that made me breathe a little lighter, and feel a little better, and most importantly, a freedom that pushed me into being who I am no matter how much I feared the backlash that would cause. That precise moment, however fucked up and wrong it may have been, made me the person I am today.

Maybe that person was just meant to be a cheater.

That night, I was driven home by Tyler. He made sure I got to bed alright and bid me goodnight with a kiss and his number on a piece of paper on my bedside table. The next morning, I ignored the endless texts I had received, and went straight to contacts.

Needless to say, Charles and I made up. I never told him the truth of course, and Tyler and I kept seeing each other frequently. What we had developed was purely sexual. I'd do the fluffy, couple-y, nice stuff with Charlie, and then I'd run off with a stupid excuse just to get laid with Tyler. At this point, it had become a routine. And I was pretty much addicted to a pleasure that should be provided from my wonderful boyfriend, not some stranger I met on a bar who offered _rough_ , _hard_ , _much needed sex_. Yet, here I was.

It was my birthday yesterday. Charles and I celebrated, and it eventually led to sex. And this time, nothing stopped us. It was sweet and loving, just like him. It was a relief, a moment of tenderness in between the dirty quickies and rough _round 2s_ I had gotten accustomed to lately. At some point, the guy made a joke about my name. Something like " _You're pretty Wilde for a virgin_ ", which seriously made me consider all my life choices for a few seconds. I only retorted with " _It's because I watch a lot of porn_ ", and kept bouncing.

I'm quite ashamed ( _at this point, that sentence is an understatement_ ) to admit that after that moment, I ran off to Tyler again. You would have thought filling the void of lack of sexual activity with my actual boyfriend would stop me from making it any worse. Maybe I'd stop screwing a stranger and finally stay loyal ( _as loyal as it gets at this point_ ) to my boyfriend of a year. But no. I had to go, because I was _hooked_. I was _obsessed_. I was drawn to that handsome stranger, and I needed more. _So much more_.

I knocked on his door, only to be pushed against it right after it opened to reveal those blue-green irises I had come to adore. He didn't even know it was my birthday. Of course he didn't know, I never _told_ him. We never really talked a lot outside of the bedroom. He just started doing his job, filling his end of the bargain. After all, we had agreed that what we had was purely physical. No strings attached, no responsibility taken. And that was fine, it was perfectly fine, because I already had everything I could possibly want out of a relationship. I had everything, and more. And I wanted all the more. So I asked for it.

We had moved to his bed by then, and he had me stripped in seconds. Two fingers in, just to do the job as quickly as possible before the real deal. It didn't take long for him to notice.

“You had sex, didn't you?”

 _Ding_! _Correct_! And, guess what, now I'm here for _more_!

“He _fucked_ you?”

A nod.

“How was it?”

He asks this not because he cares, I can tell by the forrow of his brow and the pout on his lips.

“ _Sweet_ ”, I reply, because it was. “Slow, nice and loving. It was different”, I look deep into his eyes, but I can't reach any further. He's closed off, as he always is, not like Charles. He's a means to an end, not a person of interest. Yet, I remain intoxicated. “I liked it.”

He clenches his jaw at that. “Oh, I'm sure. Just like you enjoy getting fucked raw and hard almost every single day. You enjoy it _that_ much?”

Had I known him a little better, I'd actually mistake him to being jealous. But no, we don't do that sort of thing. We don't do " _feelings_ ".

“It's different with him.”

“Oh, _I bet_.”

“ _In a good way_.”

He's stopped touching me now. He doesn't do that very often.

“Oh yeah? How's that?”

I take a deep breath. This is quite the determining moment. Meaning, it could go _really good_ or _really bad_. And, whichever of the two, It'd probably still end up being _extremely wrong._

“It's like--”, I start, but the words catch in my throat. “It's like, what we have, but _more_. It's like you cuddling me after for a few more minutes, it's like being able to go on a proper date without it being an obligation, watching a movie and maybe end up fucking 20 minutes in but still trying to pay attention. It's... An _actual_ relationship. Something we don't have. Something... _I wish we had_.”

And there, it's out in the open. A confession, the first one ever, a genuine expression of feelings towards someone that will never be able to offer what I already get from Charlie. And, of course, it follows as I suspected.

“But we don't _do that_. We-- We're not _like that_ ”

And all I can say is: “ _I know_.”

Yesterday, when all of this happened, I thought of only one thing as I walked back home. One word, just this one.

 _Karma_.

Okay, I know, it's a bit ridiculous as a concept, but in my drowning in shame and sadness as I bite the forbidden fruit and choose to be unloyal, only to lose someone I ended up caring about, the only logical explanation is that. Karma.

Because truth is, I _deserve_ this. I deserve all of it and more. I deserve to be left by Charles too, sweet, loving Charles, because he deserves so much better that the shitty boyfriend that he's stuck with.

He deserves more than _the worst boyfriend in the entire world._


End file.
